


That Awkward Moment

by PrinceBlowPop



Category: South Park
Genre: Antichrist, Eventual Smut, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:50:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5216792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceBlowPop/pseuds/PrinceBlowPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AKA: That awkward moment when the only time you and your crush can interact in class. After so long, Pip finally finds someone to talk to. But what good is it when the only thing you rely on to communicate is a lecture class? Passing conversation just barely seems to scrape the surface of who Damien really is. Will be M later on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

Every day was the same for Phillip Pirrup. Each day he would wake into a world that hated him for seemingly no reason at all. It always felt as though his classmates and professors were doing their best to outright ignore him. At times he was barely sure he even existed, let alone mattered. He thought perhaps he could be a ghost; tangled up in some poor soul’s dreams and unfortunate memories. Still, Pip was a patient and kind boy. He had waited eighteen years for God to give him some sort of sign, or even an apology simply to say he wasn’t a mistake. After all, he certainly felt like one. There had once been a time when he thought the other children of South Park would one day come to befriend him, as if somehow they would just give in to his kindness after time. But those boys and girls around him grew only further away from him, leaving him isolated and tired amongst the slew of people living at South Park University.  
He had come to predict it now, really. This morning he awoke like every other morning before it: suffocated by tufts of wild blonde hair and trapped under a seemingly endless swathe of sheets and blankets. After getting dressed and brushing his hair, he locked the door to his room behind him with a gasp of hard air. He stayed determined, though he always knew what came next. The walk from his room to the academic buildings was painfully long, so much so that he often had time enough to think on what awaited him when he finally did arrive.  
  
The lecture hall was an enormous room, with rows among columns of seats and students enough to fill each one. Being around so many people made it painfully obvious how alone he was, and how little people actually cared to acknowledge him. This time, however, the space to his right was oddly void of anyone at all. Phillip at first thought nothing of it, before a wave of noise and stomping came from the far end of the row. He had barely sat down before a boy with messy black hair came pushing through the aisle. The boy hadn’t said a word as he stepped over and by each person, even as they muttered under their breath and stared. Had he seen this boy before? No, certainly not. Phillip had always been a watcher, carefully studying everything and everyone from the sidelines. He was certain this boy had to be new. He _had_ to be.  
  
“Are you staring at me?” the boy finally spoke abruptly, breaking Phillip from his trance. “Oh, very sorry! I jus’ don’t think ah’ve seen you ‘ere before,” Phillip responded quickly, jumping up in his seat. So few people ever acknowledged him, he found that hearing a voice actually directed towards him was a bit frightening.  
  
“I’m new, for what it’s worth. This is the first day I’ve really bothered showing up to this class...or any class really,” the boy added flatly.  
  
Phillip barely heard him over the sound of his heart thumping hard in his chest. This was probably the most anyone had every really talked to him, and it felt amazing; even if it was only small talk. “Ahm Phillip!,” he said excitedly. “Oh, but I s’ppose you can call me Pip! I figure most would, if they-“ His voice trailed off after realizing what he was about to say. The black haired boy simply looked at him for a moment without speaking. Still, his gaze didn’t feel harsh, and Pip thought it looked a bit different from the glare he gave the others. Or, rather, he hoped it did.  
  
“I’m Damien,” the boy said; his eyes still locked in place.  
  
Pip was ecstatic. It felt good to be talked to as a human, and to know that he was deserving of a simple conversation. Maybe this was his sign from God after all! He shifted and shook in his seat all through class as the two exchanged stories and told of what their lives were like before college. Pip spoke for a majority of the time, but he had more than enough things to say. It felt as though there couldn’t possibly be enough time on earth to say the things he had wanted to, let alone in the time they had left in class. He was relieved that Damien seemed interested in the things he had to say, yet still he worried that every word would be one too many and his new friend would grow bored. Yet Damien seemed persistent in his willingness to listen, and so Pip continued speaking. Suddenly, Pip realized the professor had since stopped speaking, and all the students began standing and filing out from the hall as fast as possible. Damien stood along with the crowd after a moment, and looked down at the blonde-haired boy. “It was nice meeting you, Pip. Thank you for making a boring class more interesting. I look forward to seeing you again next time.” For a fleeting second, his eyes seemed somehow softer than they were before. But even before Pip could respond, the boy had phased back into the crowd, gone from his life. Pip felt alone again, still sitting in his seat among the empty aisles. He knew he would feel this way, but it hurt all the same. Talking to Damien felt so real; like he was a human being, like he had known Damien forever. He had to see him again. He _had_ to.


	2. This is Not the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy the very first chapter. Let me know if anyone has trouble understanding Pip's accent!

The following night felt like torture to Pip. There were three more days till he would see Damien again, and time had already begun freezing into a heavy sludge He wanted to know so much about his new friend, and class still seemed so far away. He felt the walls of his room spinning slowly as he stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. If he stared long enough he could begin to make out shapes in the dark: Damien’s hair, his eyes, the way his shoulders sloped and broadened out to his arms. He had only spoken to the black haired boy for an hour, but it felt so reviving and new. Now, at two in the morning, it was only a far off dream.  
  
Pip awoke the next morning to the same tired beeping of his old alarm clock. He stepped and crashed away from his bed just as he always did, and went to the mirror to brush his teeth. He was never one to remember his dreams, but still the faint glow of Damien’s face followed him from his sleep and into the waking world. It seemed jarringly wrong to begin this morning just as he always had, like the events from the day before simply never happened. He was determined to think only in the future; to wait one last time till he could see his friend again. Then things would be different. As he shut the door of his room behind him, PIp couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. He knew so little of Damien. He didn’t know his last name, his interests, or even the slightest bit about him really. Still, he knew more completely than anything in the world that Damien was a good person.  
The air outside was just as thick and tired as it felt inside his room. It was only mid autumn, but the clouds above had already begun mixing and swirling into a riptide of purples and blacks. It felt as though the sky itself was moments away of giving up, and falling down onto the earth. He hadn’t expected otherwise, but his other classes felt just as sluggish. His philosophy professor chose to give a presentation today, and after the first ten slides, Pip began daydreaming. He tried drawing Damien in the margins of all his notes, but it never turned out the way he looked in his head. He eventually gave up, supposing that nothing could truly match the real thing. Thankfully, however, the professor decided to end class early. If anything, Pip took this as a sign of good luck.  
  
The next two days ultimately felt the same. Pip shuffled from class to class in quiet, waiting only to see Damien again. Still, he no longer felt so alone. Damien had been so kind and understanding; it made him feel like he was truly important. He resolved that next class, he would tell Damien how important he was to him. That night, he drifted off to sleep more soundly than he had any other night before. Unfortunately, his dream this night was vivid and all too sharp. Damien was there, beckoning to him from just beyond a wall of iron bars. The boy drew closer to him, pushing his hands through the gaps and reaching out to him. Pip rushed forward excitedly to meet his embrace. Before the two could so much as touch, however, Damien was forced backwards by thick chains connected to his ankles. It suddenly occurred to Pip that he wasn’t the one trapped by the bars; Damien was. He cried out to Damien as he watched him slip far into the darkness.  
Pip awoke in a flush of sweat and confusion, trapped under the weight of his blankets. His head swayed back and forth in a disoriented and groggy swirl as his chest heaved with worry. After a moment of catching his breath, he dared to glance at the clock. It was four in the morning. He decided he had to stay awake, whether out of necessity or excitement he wasn’t exactly sure. He’d never let anything ruin today, even an ill omen like this. After all, Damien was his sign from God. There wasn’t anything he’d let get in the way of today. The sun soon began shining in splinters through the window, brightly tinting the room with a light orange radiance. It seemed the clouds had decided to return, however, and soon blocked the sun from the sky. As he looked out the window, Pip could begin to see professors shuffling slowly from their cars, making their way en masse to academic buildings. His mind couldn’t help but drift to this afternoon, where he would finally get to see Damien again.  
Pip slammed the door in a hurry as he rushed from his room, anxious to keep moving. There was only an hour left before class, and he was determined to get there early. The wind tugged at his sleeves and the hair around his collar as he hurriedly walked to the center of campus. Birds flocked away from the trees as he picked up his pace, cawing down at him from on high. The dream kept rushing through his head as he ran, beckoning him to hurry. Pip didn’t know why, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was running out of time. He shook his head dismissively, donning a stronger face. Eventually, it began to rain. Pip pulled his cap down tight above his eyes and continued onward down the path as the rain grew into a downpour. The walk to the classrooms wasn’t the longest distance ever, but it somehow felt like miles today.  
  
By the time he made it to the lecture hall, several early students had begun finding their seats in waiting. He quickly scanned the room for Damien, though he imagined he wouldn’t be there yet. He was right. The rain outside screamed down onto the roof of the building in rough strokes, pelting the windows and knocking hard onto the walls. After a moment, Pip heard the door swing wide behind him, letting in a sharp gust of air. He swung his head quick to the back of the room, awaiting the source of the noise. The professor stepped in from the cold, shaking the rain from his umbrella. Pip slumped back in his seat in disappointment. Following the professor, thirty students filed quickly into the room. The seats began filling in pairs and groups, leaving only a few empty. It seemed most were glad to be out of the rain. Still, even as the teacher began his lecture, the seat beside the blonde boy stayed empty.  
  
Twenty minutes had passed already. Pip simply stared down at his lap, allowing tears to fall and mix with raindrops on his notebook. The scribbles of Damien began running down the page, along with the notes beside them. Yet the tired boy never lost hope. Every moment he prayed that his new friend would simply burst through the door, interrupting class. The two would talk again just as they had before, becoming closer with every second. He wanted to hear all the stories he knew Damien had to tell; he wanted to see the way his face shifted when he spoke. But thirty minutes of waiting soon turned into forty five, and eventually everyone began rushing from the room once more. Pip lifted slowly from his seat, drifting off into thought as he made his way to the door. He stepped out into the rain again, preparing himself for the rain. He let out a gasp as he looked up to the path back home, now blocked by the black haired boy.  
  
“Damien!” Pip cried as he ran forward. “You’re really here! I jus’ knew you’d be!” Damien smiled faintly, soaked through by the rain. After a moment, Pip furrowed his brow and looked up to meet his friend’s gaze. “Awh you alright, Damien? I waited so long fuh you, I thought you’d nevuh show up!” He feigned a light punch to Damien’s shoulder before blushing and lowering his eyes back to the ground.  
  
The smile faded quickly from Damien’s face. “Pip, I’m not going to go to school here anymore,” he said with a sigh. Pip laughed a bit as tears began pulling at his eyes again.  
  
“Damien, what do you mean? I thought we wuh becoming friends?” Pip began tugging at the edges of Damien’s sleeve. “I-I fink I made it rather clear, but I like you a whole lot, y’know?” The words kept catching in his throat. Damien wasn’t speaking, his eyes glossed over into a dark red. “Did I do somefing wrong,” Pip asked, his voice lowering. “I understand If I talked too much or came on too strong. I fink I always do tha’.”  
  
Damien turned his head away from the other boy’s eyes. “It isn’t that,” he said sharply. “It’s already been settled. I’m leaving, and we aren’t going to see each other ever again.” After a moment, Damien’s throat began catching too.  
  
“I don’t understand!” Pip yelled, tugging Damien’s arms around him. “I finally found you, you’re my sign from God!” Damien’s eyes widened. No one had ever called him that before.  
  
“God discarded the world a very long time ago, Pip.” Damien turned away from him as the blonde boy began weeping louder. He walked away without looking back. He knew he’d never be able to.  
  
Pip was left standing in the rain, crying. He couldn’t process anything Damien had said. It felt as though he was fading out of existence again; falling back into isolation. He walked home slowly, barely able to lift his head. It seemed like his body was falling away, melting back out of relevance. He had only ever met Damien twice, yet he knew he could never live without him. What was there left to do now? He didn’t even know if Damien wanted to see him again, let alone if he could. Still, he had to respect Damien’s wishes. After all, there had to be a reason why he was leaving for good. Why would he say such mean things to him? He was sure they had some sort of connection-he could feel it whenever they spoke. It didn’t seem to make any sense. Raindrops cried from the trees as he walked home, barely able to move. Pip stayed in his room for the rest of that day. He wished there was a way to do everything over again. He felt like dying.


	3. I Can't Say Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this one is a bit slow but we have to set up for the real plot somewhere.

  


  


The coming night was cold and barren as the winds picked up outside, stripping the leaves from the trees. From his room, the rain made sounds like gunfire, sending hell onto the little dormitory. Pip no longer felt anxious or excited, or anything really. His gut ached like an open wound, and now all of his soul was spilling from the hole in his stomach. He was empty. Time no longer felt slowed or worrisome, it only felt missing. Pip never fell asleep that night, even as the rain sang through the hours. He was too afraid to close his eyes. He knew that as soon as he did, a dream worse than the last would surface. He would allow no more bad omens-not today at least.  
  
So, the morning came slowly, and then not at all. The clouds from the night before stayed glued to the sky, oozing rain through the breaks in the shadows. They tinted the sky a dark and smothering gray, making the air sickly and tired. But all this felt so far away to the blonde boy, trapped inside himself. He could only think about Damien, and why he had said goodbye that horrible morning.  
_________________________________________________________________

Damien padded his thumbs against his hands as he sat slumped over in his seat, and heaved a sigh. He wasn’t used to being told what to do. This whole week had been a joke that was too cruel to be funny. The space in his heart wrenched and ached with weight over the things he had said to Pip the day before. He hated himself for making the boy cry. Still, no anger he held for himself could match how completely he hated his father: Lucifer. This whole mess was his fault, of this Damien was certain. After all, his sigil was plastered in red on the letter he received after he had met Pip. As he sat, he pulled the letter from his pocket and read it over for the thirteenth time.  
  
“Damien Thorn,” the letter said simply. “We have told you time and time again of your duties on earth as the antichrist.” Damien frowned deeply as his eyes scanned the dark black words. “This certainly does not include fraternization with mortals,” the letter continued. “We have been given word that you have recently engaged in far more interaction than is required with a human boy by the name of _Phillip Pirrup_.” Damien hated that his father knew all this; that he watched his every move. “If this sort of misconduct does not desist immediately, then we will have no qualms with killing the boy, and see to it that he is damned to hell for all time.” At the bottom of the letter was his father’s signature, alongside that of three other high ranking officers from the underworld. Damien balled up the parchment in his hand as the edges grew black, then orange. Before long, the letter was nothing but ashes in his hand. The black haired boy scowled before shaking his hand loose of the heated dust. He wasn’t going to sit by this time. He asked for so little from the world, he wasn’t about to let his father take away the one promising thing he had. Besides, he was still the antichrist. Nothing was going to stand in his way--not even this. With that, Damien left the small apartment his father had gifted him and set out into the Colorado cold.  
  
He wasn’t exactly sure how, but he knew he had to see Pip again. He couldn’t stand to let the things he had said to the boy be his last. Still, he had to be careful. His father was a pompous man, but the underworld officials would not send such a warning so lightly. If they caught him meeting Pip in person again, they would keep to their word. Pip seemed too sweet of a boy to be sent to Hell, even if it meant he’d get to see him again. No, he certainly couldn’t have that. That being said, the antichrist was currently at a loss for a plan--or even a place to start for that matter. He knew Pip lived on the university grounds, but he wasn’t entirely sure as to where. Even if he did find him, it would be impossible to meet in person.  
  
Damien folded his arms to his chest as he began the trek from his apartment into South Park proper. The sharp afternoon air buzzed like locusts through his fingers as the sun cried above, muffled by the clouds. Away from the comfort of his bedroom, the air was sharp enough to wound. Still, the demon boy found that any sort of weather was better than the fires of hell; the underworld always felt baked and full, like the air had been mixed with rock from the sun. After a moment of grumbling he simply shrugged, figuring this was probably intentional. As he walked, the cracked snow beneath him melted slowly, mixing into a dark black water onto the pavement. It was troublesome that the boy stayed so hot, but it was never enough for the average citizen of South Park to notice. Besides, it seemed that not many were eager enough to approach him, let alone engage in conversation. This cast Damien as a simple shadow on the ground, slinking into town like the foreigner he was. He had lived here for nearly all his life, but he could never truly call it home. He supposed he never really had a reason to, anyways. It felt like his life was a reality TV show, constantly stocked by low ambitions and people he hated. But Pip was an outsider too. The blonde boy knew what it was like to be discarded from birth, and how it felt to be alone for so long. It was only fitting that the two would grow close, considering they began so alike. Even so, Damien had one-upped the younger boy since before he was born, unable to tell him anything of his past or family. The antichrist simply hoped that part would come with time.  
  
South Park seemed dead as Damien passed by empty building after building. Apparently the storm from yesterday had sent everyone running home like it was Armageddon. It would take more than rain however to scare away the black haired boy. He would be the first to know if the world was ending, after all. Besides, an empty town made for better thinking space. Without so much as a clue as to where he was actually headed, Damien walked slow and tired deeper into the town. He ultimately decided that although predictable, he should probably begin at the library.

___________________________________________________________________

Pip felt trapped in thick air, but standing still wasn’t an option any more. He had been so patient for so very long-he couldn’t let Damien slip away now. He couldn’t be sure what the boy’s intentions were, but he wasn’t about to believe that Damien really felt this way. The two had made a connection on meeting, something that couldn’t be broken by force of will alone. No, something was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. So, Pip decided to do some digging. For the next few hours, the tired boy sat slumped in his desk chair, staring hard at the dulled fluorescence of his computer screen. He had tried searching the internet over looking for any trace of Damien’s previous whereabouts, but something was amiss. Things didn’t feel off, or out of place, just...missing. Forget a prior address, he couldn’t find a shred of evidence saying Damien even existed. Pip knew he was a bit lacking in computer skills, but he never thought he could be this bad. Surely it couldn’t be his fault? At first, the blonde boy was only a bit angry. It seemed foolish that there could be no trace of a person anywhere, that someone could live their whole life without ever leaving a mark behind. Soon after, however, he began to grow paranoid. Had this all been a feverish dream; some nightmare induced from eating too much before bed? Pip refused to believe this. He asked God what he had done to deserve something so horrible-to have something so wonderful in his life only to be pulled away moments later. Pip gripped the edge of his desk hard with white-knuckled resolve. He no longer felt confused or betrayed; it was high time he took action. Pip the cry baby was finally dead. The blonde boy brushed from the little dark room again, in search of his friend.  
___________________________________________________________________

Damien paced the library in quiet frustration. On the desk beside him sat book over book on espionage tactics and methods of secrecy. It felt idiotic to be so wrapped up in a stuffy old library, reading such trash. He was trying to meet with his friend, not break into The Pentagon. Still, in the back of his mind, he knew the method behind it all. His father’s generals were always watching, burning holes in the back of the antichrist’s head. If anyone so much as heard him utter the name Pip, the boy would no doubt be killed on the spot. Damien’s weight shifted as he scaled a small rusted stepladder, standing on his toes to retrieve a book from the highest shelf. To think, the antichrist should be reduced to such menial tasks all in the name of a human boy.  
  
The black haired boy sat upright for a time in an old wooden library chair, reading. His eyes scanned from line to line nearly instantaneously, yet his attention was shattered to pieces each time he looked over a paragraph. Some god-awful noise was stirring just over the next row of shelves, stopping intermittently only to begin again moments later. To Damien, it was another obnoxious distraction keeping him from reaching Pip. This had to be silenced immediately. Damien rose from his chair quickly and moved over to the source of the noise. He could make out the sound more clearly now, as he furrowed his brow with frustration. He eventually spotted two boys arguing at the far end of the hall. Their accents were nearly as pronounced as Pip’s, it seemed, albeit with a much harsher tone. The lighter-haired boy stood up in his chair as Damien approached, his hand still gripping a tuft of the other boys collar. The two seemed to be entirely oblivious to the fact that they were in a library.  
  
“Excuse me,” the thinner boy said flatly. “I don’t believe this is any of your business.” The darker haired boy scowled in agreement before returning his attention to their dispute.  
  
“You don’t seem to understand,” Damien said. “Anything is my business if it fucks with my concentration.” The antichrist’s eyes flashed in little embers, singeing the air around the three. This time, the dark haired boy responded, still keeping his attention away from Damien.  
  
“Qui est-ce?” The boy spat to the other. “Is ‘e a friend of yours?” Damien watched as the boy stood to match the blonde.  
  
“God, what makes you think I know?” the blonde boy asked. “By the looks of him, I assumed he was one of yours!”  
  
“And just what is zat supposed to mean?” the cigarette smoke scented one retorted. For all their arguing, it seemed the two were rather involved with one another.  
  
“I’m still here, idiots,” Damien said loudly, interrupting them again. “I don’t care about whatever the hell you’re doing, but you need to make it quiet before I do it for you.” The blonde boy scoffed at this, eyeing Damien up and down.  
  
“You see this, de Lorne?” the British boy said. His grip on the other’s dirty, dark green shirt loosened. “I believe this man thinks he’s above our ‘petty little squabble,’ doesn’t he?”  
  
“I zink zat’s a little obvious, beetch,” Christophe replied to the other. The blonde boy grit his teeth in anger, ready to begin the quarrel anew. However, just as he spoke, a harsh, “Quiet!” rang into their ears. An old woman with graying wires of hair stood beside Damien, shocking the three to attention. With not a word more, they were removed from the South Park Public Library.  
  
“Look at what you fuckwads did!” Damien shouted from the steps of the library. The two boys pouted in crossed-arm denial, refusing to look at the antichrist. The whole “incognito” thing was turning out very poorly so far.  
  
“What we did?” Christophe mocked at Damien “Zis is _your_ fault, tu connard! Gregory and I ‘ad nearly settled till you came along.” Gregory nodded this time, his hair unbearably brighter in the white Colorado air.  
  
“Where am I supposed to go now?” Damien fumed. “Tell me one other place in this god-forsaken town where I can learn how to talk to someone without actually fucking talking to them!” Damien’s chest was heaving, wrought with the thought losing Pip forever.  
  
“That’s it?” Gregory smirked. _“That’s what was so important?”_ Gregory asked with a laugh. “You wanted to know how to be sneaky?” Christophe chimed in. The two began laughing together, arm in arm.  
  
“Fuck you, ” Damien snapped. “This is life and death. If I get caught in any of this, the person I love is going to die.” The black haired boy paused at his own words. Did he really love Pip? He had only known the boy a few days, it seemed so unlike him to grow so attached. No, he decided. It must have been a slip of the tongue. Damien never bought into that human “love at first sight” bullshit.  
  
“Ooh là là!” Christophe joked. “It sounds like anger boy is in love!” The antichrist ignored the comment. “But, if it is secrecy you are after, I can already say zere is not a single book in zis podunk town on zee subject.”  
  
“Besides,” Gregory added. “If you’re looking for that sort of thing, there's quite a few options better than trifling little books.” Gregory’s smirk returned, painfully obvious. “I can think of one avenue in particular, if you’re interested.”  
  
“I’ve seen enough of your shit already, thanks,” Damien said. “Plus I’m pretty sure I don’t need the help of some British asshole and his grimey French boyfriend.”  
  
“Excusez-moi?” Christophe shouted. “And who are you to deny our _extremely _generous offer?”__  
  
“I’m Damien Thorn, the antichrist.”


End file.
